


The Dream Of Healing

by skittles_and_oreos16



Series: AU Gallavich [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Bipolar Disorder, Cafe owner!mickey, M/M, Original Character(s), Waiter!ian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3404855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittles_and_oreos16/pseuds/skittles_and_oreos16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey Milkovich owns a small cafe in the South Side with a program to help people get back on their feet and make some money in the mean time. But when his aunt, Dr. Belle Zerh, sends a bitter young man with bipolar disorder his way, shit could get messy.</p><p>Ian Gallagher was pulled out of the South Side just days before his ninth birthday to live with his biological father, step-mom, and step brother. He finds himself working at The Caramel Café as part of a program his  psychiatrist arranged for him to join and he's finding it more difficult to focus on work when his grumpy boss also happens to be ridiculously attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Work Hard, Sleep Harder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian turned the idea around in his head for a few minutes. If he was being honest with himself, having a job would be nice. He wouldn't have to spend as much time at home with his biological dad and step-mom, or his siblings housed in the South Side. It would be nice to go somewhere and create the false illusion that he wasn't a shattered piece of airbrushed porcelain. "Alright," he said nodding, "I'll take it."

Ian couldn't help the bouncing in his leg as he played with the hem of sweater. Dr. Zerh was talking, he knew, but he was having a hard time paying attention.

"Ian," she murmured gently. "Have you heard a word I said?"

"Something about ducks crossing the road?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, but you're close," she said, matching his tone. "I said you should really start thinking about getting a job."

Ian straitened in his chair and sniffed loudly in irritation. "Where? Who's going to hire me, huh? I'm a minor with a mental illness. You're out of your fucking mind."

"You'll be eighteen in a few short months." She sighed deeply, contemplating weather or not now was the best time to bring up the job she had in mind, she came to the conclusion it was now or never. "I've been looking around a bit, there's a place, The Caramel Café, over in the South Side. Now you'll have to think about it, but I know the owner and if you decide you want the job it's as good as yours."

Ian barely shifted in his seat, but it was enough for her to know she had captured his attention. "I've talked to Clayton, he's given the go ahead already."

"What would I be doing?" the earlier edge to his voice had slipped away and was replaced with shy curiosity. "Well, it depends on what the demands of the day are. Some days you may be cooking, some you may be waiting, hell some days you may be bussing tables."

Ian turned the idea around in his head for a few minutes. If he was being honest with himself, having a job would be nice. He wouldn't have to spend as much time at home with his biological dad and step-mom, or his siblings housed in the South Side. It would be nice to go somewhere and create the false illusion that he wasn't a shattered piece of airbrushed porcelain. "Alright," he said nodding, "I'll take it."

*

"Look Aunt Belle, as long as the kid does his job I don't care if he's a fucking three headed alien." Mickey rubbed a hand across his face and groaned loudly into the cell phone at his ear. He already told his aunt he'd let whatever patient she had lined up work at the family café, but if he didn't know any better he'd say she was trying to talk him out of it.

"He's different from the last few I've sent your way," Belle continued. "He's going through trials for new meds and acting irregularly irritable, but that could have to do with problems at home."  
"Whatever, he can start Monday morning," Mickey said before hanging up. He didn't need another run down on the fucker, he'd already gotten that a few nights before when she'd told him about the potential employee. She's told him that if he got to be too much to handle, they'd have to figure something else out.  
He threw his phone on the table and ran a hand through his hair before glancing at the clock and, after noticing the time, looked instinctively at the door just in time to see Mandy trudge through.

She was bundled under a fluffy coat, what appeared to be more then one scarf, a beanie and gloves. "It's cold as fuck out there," she muttered as she pulled her scarves off, revealing a chapped, red nose.

"Put some fucking clothes on slut and you won't be so cold," he said and quickly hid his smile.

She flipped him the bird and said, "You're fucking kidding me right? I have four layers of just about everything on, what more do you want from me?"

He let the conversation drop at that. "I brought home some weird ass pasta, it's in the fridge," he said with an absentminded wave of his hand, while he ducked his head back down over his account book. "Aunt Belle, called. Said she's go another one for me."

"Yeah, cause it worked out _so_ well last time," Mandy stated as she pulled the take-out container from the fridge and threw the food on a plate. "What's this one got? And please don't say it's another germaphobe, because if it is I'm quitting tomorrow."

"You don't even work at the café, save a few Saturdays a month, and no, it's not another germaphobe fuck you very much. Like I would let her send me another one. I swear to god I spent more money on dishes, hand sanitizer, and soap in the month the girl worked there then I have the entire time I've owned the place."

"Wait, dishes? Why dishes?" Mandy asked as she shoved a forkful of food into her mouth.

"She kept throwing them after she found out other people had touched them."

"That's what you get for making a germaphobe a dish washer. So, what's this one got then?" she asked again, sitting across from her brother at the table.

"He's bipolar, whatever the fuck that means." He looked up long enough to find his coffee mug before his eyes re-glued themselves instinctively to the pages.

Mandy's eyebrows furrowed and she stopped chewing for a minute. "It's manic depression, Mick, drastic mood swings and shit. Why would she send him to you? With a depressive episode he could be out of work for weeks."

Mickey stopped flipping through pages before looking up to meet his sisters gaze. "The point of the program isn't really because I need the workers," he stated off-handedly. "Mood swings? Aunt Belle said if he gets to be too much she'd have to find him something different."

"That shit can get pretty heavy. Remember Vinnie Slinksy and his girlfriend Sora? She was bipolar. Last I knew they broke up, said he couldn't deal with her. I never wanted to rip a guy's dick off as badly as I did his. Stupid fucking jackass."  
Mickey couldn't help but smile at his sister, despite the seriousness of the conversation. She was a bitch, there was no denying it. But when she loved you, she loved you with a protective fierceness that never ceased to amaze him. "So, you think taking this kid in at the café could be a bad idea?"

He could see the wheels in her head turning for a few short moments before she replied, "I think it depends. You have to be careful because you don't want to interfere with the other employees, remember Sam?" she asked with an obvious shudder. "He went around groping all the girls and rutting against the guys. If he sexually harasses, I'd say get rid of him. However, I think you do need to give him a chance at the job."

Mickey nodded before saying, "I doubt Aunt Belle would send us a molester, Mands."

"Well that's true," she stood from her spot at the table and cleared her plate. She snatched two beers from the fridge before she grabbed Mickey's sleeve saying, "Enough with the boring books. We're watching some shitty superhero movie and getting high."

"You can get high, I've got shit to do," he grumbled, pulling his arm back so his elbow was resting on the edge of the table.

"Ooh fuck no! You've pouring over those stupid fucking book things all day. You're talking a few hours off."

He groaned, but stood up. One thing he'd learned early on after moving in with his sister, was it was impossible to say no to those goddamned puppy eyes.

*

"First day, nervous?" Tia asked, handing Ian the freshly poured mug of coffee from the pot. He only shrugged before taking a sip and running a hand down his face. "You okay Ian?"

"Mm," he muttered. "Didn't sleep great last night." He hoped the conversation would drop at that, but of course the cook wouldn't let it go.

"How many nights in a row?" she asked cautiously.

"Last night was the first in months, don't worry," he lied, then gave her a brief reassuring smile and swung off the seat ready to get out of the stuffy, oversized house for a few hours. "I'm gonna head out." He kissed the elderly, grandma like, woman on the cheek before slipping out the front door without being noticed.  
He honestly had some time to kill before he had to be at the café, so he might as well make the best of it. He took the L to the South Side and wandered his way to the old house he'd once, still, called home. He mounted the porch steps before boldly stepping and calling out.

  
"Ian, is that you?" Fiona's familiar voice called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I was in the neighbor hood," he called as he walked through the living room.

"What for, you forget something last weekend?"

"No," he said as he reached the kitchen and slid easily into the barstool. "I got a job."

Fiona smiled up at him before she said, "Ian, that's great! Where's it at?"

"The Caramel Café," he answered, toying with bowl in front of him and not meeting Fiona's gaze.

"The Milkovich's run that café," she said with a slight frown. "How'd you get in there?"

"Dr. Zerh, her nephew owns it."  
"That would be Mickey," Fiona stated, her face stilled turned in an upside down smile. "Why there, though?"

"They have a program, Dr. Zerh sends her patients that need jobs to her nephew, until they're able to get on their feet and deal with their issues," then added, "without being babysat."

He could hear the resentment in his own voice, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't a child, and he sure as hell wasn't broken, so why did everyone feel the need to look over his shoulder like thy were waiting for him to erupt and melt down. He knew one thing, if they were waiting for him to blow his gasket all they had to do was continue breathing down his neck and he'd snap like a rubber band. He sighed and said, "I should get going."

"You know where you're going?," she asked quietly.  
"Yeah, Clayton drove me by yesterday." He crossed the kitchen to give his sister a quick kiss on the cheek before walking out the back door and into the stinging air.

  
It was only the beginning of November, but the air was unusually bitter. He pulled his hoodie and coat tighter to his body, hoping maybe he could disappear completely inside and get out of this shit show. He had been intrigued when Dr. Zerh had talked it over with him Friday during their weekly session, but then he'd had the whole weekend to think about what a horrible mistake he had made.

  
The days were getting slightly easier again. Easier to get out of bed, easier to eat, carry on conversations. He'd been on these new meds for only about a week, but he could tell they were making a positive difference. He shook himself out of his thoughts as he pushed the door to the cafe open and walked inside.

  
It was busy, but was bigger on the inside then it appeared to be in passing. They're were scattered tables and booths lining the walls and right now there was barely an empty seat with waiters running around and chatting with what seemed like everyone in the restaurant.

  
That was when a short man approached him, his mouth clamped shut and eyes dancing around the room, watching every table and booth. "Ian Gallagher?" the man asked as he came to a stop in front of him.

"Yeah, you're-"

"Mickey," came the rough, grunted reply. "Follow me, Howdy Doodie," and with that Ian found himself trailing behind the man with a ridiculously dark head of hair.

No man should have hair that dark when their skin was that white. He found it hard to tare his eyes away from the slight patch of skin on the back of his neck that moved every time he did. It was mesmerizing to see the black hair dance across the pale expanse of his neck. Which is why he ran into the mans back, earning him a scowl.

  
*

Mickey had gone through the necessary introductions before retreating into his office in the back. When his aunt had told him about the young man she had lined up, she hadn't mentioned the part where he was clumsy as fuck. He doubted the guy noticed he'd been clipping his heels with the toe of his shoe the entire way back to the kitchen, and then the dude had run into him as they approached their destination.

He tugged at the hair in the back of his neck and sank into his swivel chair just as the door was opening. He expected it to be an employee already complaining about the new redheaded addition, instead Mandy sauntered in and flung herself in the chair across from his desk.

"Well, Aunt Belle never said he was hot," Mandy said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. And he knew that look. That was the look she used when she was trying to get in some dumb fucks pants.

Which honestly threw him off kilter because he was planning the same thing. Well, not planning. Maybe just imagining? Redheads were definitely his thing, and it always helped when they looked as hot as Gallagher. Broad shoulders, emerald green eyes, and the dude was as tall as a fucking tree. "Never said who was hot?" he asked lamely, ducking his head down to cover the growing heat engulfing his cheeks.

"Don't play dumb with me," she answered, feigning irritation brilliantly. "If you didn't notice how hot Ian Gallagher is, I not only question your reputation as a gay man, but also revoke your right to drool over redheads." She smirks and sat forward while saying, "He is hot though, isn't he? You should totally hit that."

"Wasn't paying attention." Lies. "Besides, it's a stupid fucking idea to fuck an employee." More lies, the more he thought about it the better the idea sounded. And that could turn into a problem.

 

Ian collapsed into a chair after having mopped the entire floor and wiped down the remaining tables and Mickey watched from the doorway to his office. He crossed his arms and set them on the table in front of him before his face fell forward to rest on top of them. Aunt Belle had called him earlier that day saying the last she knew he hadn't been sleeping properly during the night, and if the snoring was anything to go by he still wasn't.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, leaving Mickey to shuffle awkwardly before going to stand at the table and nudge Ian. The man didn't budge so he shoved a bit harder. Nothing. "Gallagher," he said, not really shouting but apparently speaking loud enough for the boy to stir.

"What the fuck?" he redhead grumbled.

"Get the fuck off my table, I have to lock up and you need to get home before you collapse you fucking idiot," his word came out softer then he'd meant them to. "Look, you need me to drive you home?" he asked, shuddering when he thought about the creepy fuckers lurking down alleyways waiting for someone who could barely hold themselves up, so how the hell would they put up a fight for a fuck?  
"No'm just gonna stay at my sisters," he said, emphasizing his statement with a yawn as he followed Mickey out of the small shop.

"Whatever man, see ya," he said, before walking towards his car without another glance back at the redhead.


	2. Groping Costomers Are Annoying, No Matter How Well They Tip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So maybe a one night stand with a certain giant ass gingerbread man wasn't the best idea, but that didn't have stop him from flirting, right? Flirting was perfectly harmless. Wasn't it? Flirting was definitely harmless. Maybe he's just stick to that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way later then it was supposed to be....And I'm also shit at chapter titles....

The word "tired" didn't even begin to cover the way Ian was feeling by the end of the week. He would run himself ragged at the diner only to go home, either to his siblings in the South Side or Clayton in the North, and overwork himself there. Factoring in that he wasn't sleeping more then a few hours a night and he was finishing trials with new meds didn't help either.  

"I'm thinking that taking this job wasn't my best idea," Ian complained to Caitlin, a fellow waiter at the cafe, in he break room. He folded his arms on the table and laid his head down with a groan. "In fact, I'd say it's definitely one of my worst."

She patted his arm sympathetically, her nose still buried in her book. "I know baby." She took a large bite of her apple and continued, "Did you have choice in the matter."

He turned his head to face her and did his best to nod in his awkward position. "Yeah, I honestly thought it would help. I'd be spending less time at home and less time with my siblings, but all it's done so far is fuck up my sleeping schedule."

She put her book down and frowned at that. "Problems at home?" she asked in a knowing motherly tone. She was only twenty-two, but the term "mother figure" seemed ingrained into her personality. It more then likely had to do with the fact that she was the oldest in a houseful of siblings and had gotten knocked up at sixteen with her daughter Emmaleigh.

He heaved a sigh before muttering an exhausted, "Yes. No. I don't know?" His eyes slipped closed and he waited for the question he knew would come.

Caitlin pushed her book and apple away before turning fully to him and laid a gentle hand on his head. "What's going on, Babe?"

"Don't really want to talk about it here." If he were being honest, he'd say he didn't want to talk about it at all. 

She nodded before saying, "But you're not getting out of it that easily. You're coming to mine for dinner, you can even crash for the night if you need to."

"All right you lazy fucks," a familiar voice said from behind them in the doorway. "I'm not paying you to take half-hour breaks." 

Caitlin stood and gathered her things before exiting room, while Ian had hard time remembering how to move his body. 

That was when Mickey spoke a again saying, "Get your ass up man, it's time to roll." 

Ian groaned before pushing himself up from the table and running a hand down his face. It was going to be a long day, he had no doubt about that. He decided it had been made even longer when he stepped out of the back room and spotted his "favorite" costumer. 

It was on his second day that the Jeremy had started coming in, and he'd been in everyday since. He was well into his fifties with a balding head and hands he couldn't keep to himself. Ian had laughed off every pass the man made at him, considering he was a good tipper, but yesterday was when the hands had found themselves to be a part of the equation. It had started with a brush against his elbow, which Ian had let slide, but once the man knew what he could get away with, the slight touches were more frequent. A glide across his hand, a touch to his arm, a poke at his stomach, all leading up to the one action that made him want to dry heave on the spot, a pinch to his ass and a wink.

He grabbed his pad of paper before walking up to the table and standing an arms length away. "What can I get for you?" he asked, plastering on a fake smile.

Jeremy smiled when he saw Ian and said, "How about a glass, cause I just found a tall drink of water."

The man's voice was enough to make Ian's skin crawl and he tried not to outwardly cringe at the horrible pick-up line. As if that wasn't bad enough, the man began blatantly undressing him with his eyes, making Ian shutter. 

*

Mickey was taking in the sight from his office as Ian visibly shuttered, most likely to something that asshole Jeremy had said. He'd watched the man get a little too handsy the day before, but was just waiting for Ian to say something. Chances were he wouldn't, no one likes to complain about their biggest tipper. Ian had taken a step closer to the man and he watched as the creepy fuckers hand slid to his ass. That's when he'd had enough. The last thing he needed was more groping costumers. 

He left his office and shut the door before sliding up next to Ian. He took matters into his own hands saying, "Alright Jeremy, this is a cafe, not a strip club. You wanna grope on underage employees, head over to The Fairytale in Boystown, but keep your sleazy ass hands off my workers."

The man in front of him put a hand over his heart and let out an offended gasp. "I was only having a conversation with Ian, I don't understand-"

"Listen here fucker, I have conversations with people too, but none of them involve my hands all over their asses. So stuff your fat fucking mouth with whatever goddamned food you want today, tip Gallagher, and get the fuck out of my cafe before I paint my walls with your ass."

He turned around and walked back to his office. He heard Jeremy muttering, "I don't deserve to be treated like this," before the restaurant's door opened and slammed shut. He sat in his chair behind the desk just before his office door was thrown open and Ian appeared in the doorway, face as red as his hair.

The door was thrown shut as roughly as it had been opened before Ian shouted, "The fuck was that?! You had no right to do that!"

Mickey relaxed into his seat before saying, "I've had enough problems in the past with geriatric viagroid's groping on underage kids, they think because we live in the South Side no one will notice or care. And the last thing I need is my aunt up my ass about why I let some creepy old fucker take advantage of you and dump you in a ditch somewhere."

The words hung in the air and Ian hung his head before muttered defeatedly, "I can take care of myself, don't need your fucking help."

"Oh," Mickey couldn't help but laugh. "Can you now?"

Ian's head snapped up at that and his eyes darkened. "I've been taking care of myself without anyone's help the past seventeen years of my life, and I've done a damn good job at that."

"Well excuse me." Mickey put his hands up defensively before saying, "You need to get back out there."

He watched the redhead leave and let out a deep sigh. The phone must've noticed the silence in the room and decided to ring because of it. He groaned, not in the mood to deal with snarky sales reps and annoying insurance companies trying to convince him they had a better deal then whoever the fuck he was with.

"Yes?" he snapped.

 "Well, good afternoon to you too, Dear," his aunts voice sang out over the phone. 

 "The fuck do you want Aunt Belle?" he asked, his words lacking any bite, but still irritated.

"Jesus, not even a how are you? Well, never mind that. I was just calling to see how Ian was working out, it's been about a week."

"He's doing fine," he answered, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk.  "He's as annoying as fuck though."

He heard a light chuckle from the other end, something that never ceased to make him smile, before she answered with a hint of sarcasm, "I knew you to would hit it off."

"Listen, Mandy's finally bringing that boyfriend of hers around for dinner tonight, you should come. I'm bringing home something from here."

"Well, how can I turn down a free meal, I'll be there with bells on." 

They chatted a few more minutes over the possibility of another patient to send his way before saying their goodbyes and hanging up. A loud crash made him curse and fly out of his chair. 

*

Ian decided a little late that there was the distinct possibility he had over-reacted. Mickey had meant well, he supposed, but it still irked him to no end. He only realized how distracted he was when he ran into Barb who had a stack of dishes that went clattering to the floor.

"Shit," he muttered. He stooped to pick up the broken dishes just as the object of his distractedness made an appearance in front of him. 

"The fuck is going on out here!?" he asked, looking between Barb and Ian. 

"It was my fault, I wasn't paying attention," Ian was quick to mutter as he picked up a plate. "Fuck!" he shouted as a prick to the skin on his finger began bleeding. "Fucking shit," he whispered, more to himself then anyone. 

"Jesus Gallagher," Mickey said, bending down to look at his finger. Their eyes locked and he said with a smirk, "I'm beginning to think you're more trouble then you're worth."

Ian couldn't help the half-smile that spread over his mouth and he said, "I'm afraid I'd have to agree with you, I am more trouble then I'm worth." Even though he smiled, the words hit a sore spot in him that he'd rather were left alone. But it was almost like a scar on your body, once you found it you couldn't leave it alone.

"Come on Gallagher, I can't have you getting blood all over my cafe. Caitlin, would you help Barb with all this shit?" he asked, gesturing to the broken plates.

Ian's friend nodded as the two men walked back to the office. "I can clean up myself," Ian said, determined.

Mickey pushed open the door and shut it firmly behind them before he said, "I never said you couldn't." He pushed Ian down onto the couch that lined the wall on the left side of the desk before pulling out a first-aide kit from God knows where. "Gotta make sure you don't have any ceramic stuck in your finger and trust me, I know from experience that it's easier if someone else does it.

He loomed over Ian a moment before picking his hand up and pulling it under the light. He probed lightly at it before squeezing none to gently. A piece from the plate shot out and he heard it clatter somewhere on the floor as shouted, "Ow, fucking fucker!"

"See what I mean?" Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow. 

He wrapped a plain band-aide around the wound as Ian said quietly, "I kind if over-reacted earlier, sorry about that."

"Yeah, you kind of did." Mickey dropped his hand before saying, "You really gotta stay out of trouble, Gallagher. The last thing I need is to spend another fortune on dishes." It had been grumbled out, but all it did was make Ian smile.

"I'm not usually such a klutz," he said, smiling up at his boss. "My ROTC training is proof of that."

"ROTC?" another eyebrow raise and a snort was all he got as the shorter man crossed to his desk to sit on the edge.

"Wanted to be an officer, the bi-polar kind of got in the way though."

"Officer, huh? Don't they get shot first?" Mickey sounded unimpressed as he folded his arms across his chest. 

Ian only shrugged before standing up and saying, "I better go help clean up."

*

Ian knocked on Caitlin's door and was greeted by a little girl, he assumed had to be Emmaleigh, who couldn't be more then five or six. "Are you Ian?" she asked. He barely had time to nod before the small girl grabbed his hand and dragged him through the front door, then slammed it loudly.

"Mommy," she called out, still gripping his hand, "your friend's here!" 

Caitlin came out from the arch between the kitchen and living room and smiled widely at the two of them. "Just pulled the food out. 

Ian nodded and followed the two into the kitchen where three plates were already on the table. "Mommy made pizza," the little girl stated as she crawled up onto a chair. "Do you like pizza?" she asked, looking at him with questioning brown eyes.

He smiled and said, "It's my favorite." 

"It better be," Caitlin teased from behind him. "Now go sit down."

He slid into the seat next to Emmaleigh and the girl looked over at him. "Are you gonna live with Mommy, like Sherry lives with Daddy?"

"What?" Ian asked, confusion flooding his face.

"No, Em," Caitlin said, laying a hand on the child's arm. "Were just friends."

"Like you and Aunt Mandy?"

"Yes, just like me and Aunt Mandy."

Ian had to smile at the nickname as he said, "Didn't know you and Mandy were close."

"Yeah, it's because of her that I got in at the cafe," Caitlin said as she pushed pizza onto everyone's plate. "Best friends since high school." She smiled over at him before saying, "We should all three get together sometime."

"Sounds fun," Ian said nodding.

"Your dad's going to be here in just a little bit Em, you all ready?"

The little girl nodded before devouring her pizza in record time. She was just putting her dish in the sink when the door opened and a man stepped through. Caitlin stood up from the table and grabbed the backpack on the floor and handed it to her daughter. 

"I love you baby girl," she said, and hugged Emmaleigh tightly. "Be good and I'll see you Sunday night."  The man left without saying a word and Caitlin fell back into her seat. "All right, now you tell me what's going on at home."

*

Mickey walked into the house he shared with Mandy and inhaled the scent of homemade bread. His aunt was curled up on the couch with a mug of coffee in her hands and her feet tucked under body. "The fuck's she making?" he asked, as he shimmied out of his coat.

"Chicken stew," she said, patting the seat next to her. "I made the bread and brought it over here to cook."

"What, make the house smell good or some shit?" he teased.

She smiled at him as he plopped down next to her and nodded. "That's exactly why. How's Ian really doing?" she asked, changing the subject.

He shrugged and said, "He's okay."  _Hot as hell._  "Clumsy little bastard."  _And its adorable and that's not okay._

"Does he seem reserved?" 

"No, not really. He gets on good with Caitlin and he seems to really like Barb. And Denny the cook."

Mandy walked out of the kitchen then and sunk into the armchair beside the couch. "What's up?" she asked.

"Talking about how Ian's adjusting," her aunt replied, smiling over at her.

"Seems to be doing fine to me," she stated.

"You've met him  _maybe_  three times, Mands," her brother said, raising an eyebrow.

"Whatever, Roberto's going to be here in just a few minutes." She thought for a moment before adding, "You know we should watch a movie after dinner."

"I'm going to have to head home," Belle said, "I've got an early appointment tomorrow morning."

She turned her puppy eyes to Mickey and he couldn't help but say, "Fuck, whatever, I don't give a shit."

The doorbell sounded through the house and Mandy bolted out of her seat. She opened the door open with a fucking dopey grin and was rewarded with a kiss before Roberto stepped in.

Of all the boyfriends Mandy had had, this one he was actually able to tolerate. He'd never admit it, but he honestly fucking loved this one. He treated Mandy the way she deserved. Gentle touches, loving looks when she wasn't paying attention, small gestures like pulling the fucking chair out for her. He knew she'd found her knight in shining armor, and he was treating her like the treasure she was.

*

Ian and Caitlin had moved to the couch and each had a glass of juice, Ian because he was trying to drink less and Caitlin because she hadn't really gotten back into the drinking after Emmaleigh was born.

"So let me get this straight," his friend said slowly. "Your dad, Clayton, and your mom, Monica, had an affair on your, what uncle?,  Frank. When your dad found out he took to the North Side to live with him and his wife and kid when you were almost nine. When you were sixteen you were diagnosed as bi-polar, but you freaked out and ran away with your mom. After you came back though, you realized you need help and got put on meds, did I get it right?"

Ian had left out exactly what he'd gotten up to when he'd left with Monica and the events that had made him realize just how much he needed help. If he had it his way, no one would know but him and Dr. Zerh. "Yeah, you got it."

"So why the problems at home?"

He shrugged. "It's a weird place to be. I still like to think of the South Side as my home, but in a way, it's just not. And the North Side," he said with a scoff, "I think a fish out of water is more comfortable and at home then I am living there. After Clayton took me away, I never really got the chance to fit in anywhere. To South for the North, to North for the South."

She patted his arm motherly way as she said, "I understand. No one wants to be with people or in places where they feel like they don't fit."

He smiled at her and nodded, glad he'd found somewhere he could be himself.

*

Dinner with the Milkovich's usually consisted of well meaning insults and aggressive shoves. Roberto and Belle sat back amused as the two siblings bickered over pointless things, until the subject of Ian came up.

"I still think you should get with that," Mandy said casually.

Belle didn't miss the blush that crept up Mickey's neck and spread to his cheeks. "Fuck no," he blurted, shifting uncomfortably.

"Smart choice," she said, resting her elbows on the table. "It's not smart to get involved with an employee."

"I don't plan on it," Mickey snapped, growing redder by the minute. "Bitch of a sister won't let it go."

"Ugh, screw both of you," Mandy said. "Mickey hasn't gotten laid in months and it's affecting his ability to think. Ian's great, funny, smart, easy access-"

"Okay I'm going to stop you right there," their aunt said. "Ian isn't something to be played with." She continued, looking pointedly at Mickey, "You just can't pick him up and then throw him away when your done with him."

Mickey sputtered before croaking out, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm saying he's not to be treated like yesterday's trash." Belle's eyes turned serious as she looked at Mickey. "He needs to be treated gently."

Mandy snorted next to Roberto as kicked her brother under the table. "Yeah, treat him with kid gloves."

"Jesus," Mickey muttered. "I'm leaving now. Watch a movie or some shit, anything to get away from this fucking weird ass freak show."

He walked out to the living room and heard as Mandy and her boyfriend cleared the table. He threw himself onto the couch and groaned out loud when he heard his aunts footsteps. "The fuck do you want?"

"Listen, I obviously can't tell you who and who not to date-"

"I don't do dates," he interrupted.

Belle let out an exasperated sigh before continuing. "That aside, Ian is wonderful. I just don't suggest getting involved. He's got a lot of shit he's working through and the last thing he needs is your ass coming in and complicating things more then they already are."

"Whatever," he grumbled with a half-hearted shrug.

His aunt stood and kisses his forehead, earning her a string of cures and un-intelligible words before she made her way out the door.

Mickey knew she was right. Shit could get messy if he got involved with Gallagher. He didn't do dates and boyfriends, he did one night stands in alley-ways out side of Boystown. With Ian, he'd have to see the stupidly hot redhead everyday at work, but that didn't stop Mickey from imagining Gallagher bending him over his desk after everyone had left for he night.

So maybe a one night stand with a certain giant ass gingerbread man wasn't the best idea, but that didn't have stop him from flirting, right? Flirting was perfectly harmless. Wasn't it? Flirting was definitely harmless. Maybe he'd just stick to that.

"Shove your lazy ass over," Mandy barked above him while pushing at his legs, because he'd laid down over the expanse of the entire couch and closed his eyes after Belle left.

"All right, all right. So fucking pushy," he mumbled pulling himself down to one corner of the couch. "What movie are we watchin'?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

"Rob brought one over," she said, waving to were he was pushing in a disk and turning on the television. "Hey, kill the light switch over there," she called.

Mickey turned the lamp off to the right of the couch and settled in more fully. Mandy's boyfriend snuggled in beside her as the opening for  _The Amazing Spider-man_  rolled onto the screen. "Seriously? You have a shit taste in movies man," he groused, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Shut up, Mick. It's a good movie," Mandy said, poking his rib.

Nevertheless, the pair complained during movie and laughing at the others stupid jokes until they fell asleep slumped against each other. 

Roberto sighed with relief and started it back at the beginning because, why the hell not? He was only twenty minutes into it.

*

Caitlin was in the linen closet and babbling once again about how her, Ian, and Mandy should get together soon. She re-emerged with a sheet and pillow case and a wide smile.

"I already agreed to it," he said, taking the tan sheet off of her arm and throwing it on the couch, "so stop trying to talk me into it."

She crossed the living room to Emmaleigh's bedroom door and pulled a pillow off the bed. "I know," she said breathlessly, "but it'll be great! I mean you two are going to hit it off, I just know."

"I have met her before," Ian stated mindlessly as he spread the sheet over the couch. "Do I get a blanket?" he asked as Caitlin pushed the fresh pillow case into the pillow.

"No you get to freeze to death," she answered tonelessly.

"Well, it's the last time I spend the night here," he said with mock offense. "Treat me like a regular peasant!"

"Well you ain't no princess with a pea up her ass," she said, finally looking up from her task and tossing the pillow on the couch. 

"It was under her mattress." Ian didn't bother trying to hide the amused expression on his face, or the laugh that rumbled in his chest.

"Whatever. Let's find you a blanket."

They ended up pulling a quilt off Emmaleigh's bed and throwing it on the couch as well. Ian pulled Caitlin in for a tight hug and whispered to her, "Thanks, it was nice to talk. Have some one that isn't Dr. Zerh listen for once."

She wrapped her arms around him more securely before whispering back, "Anytime. I'm here for you whenever you need me." 

They let go and Ian crawled into his bed for the night. He stared up at the ceiling and waited quietly for sleep to take him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter and I'll try to start updating on a regular basis, but I obviously can't make any promises.


	3. Places To Hide That Feel Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He shifted and turned his head only now noticing how close they'd gotten, with Mickey leaning on his side against the counter his chest only inches away from brushing against Ian's arm. Ian turned just then and looked down at him, seeming to notice it too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I suck at updating regularly....

"So how do you like it at the café?" Belle asked, easing into lighter conversation.

"It's good." He watched as she eyed him, waiting for him to continue. Rolling his eyes, Ian complied. "I like it there, made some friends. I like the work and keeping busy. Plus, the less I'm at home less time there is of me feeling guilty of all the shit that went down."

She glanced down at the papers in front of her as she asked, "Speaking of home, how are things?"

Leaning back, Ian did his best to change the subject by saying, "You never told me how hot your nephew was.

"You're not getting out of the question, so stop trying." Belle met his eyes and released a deep sigh. "Not to mention an employer/employee relationship is not a smart idea."

"Who said anything about a relationship? I was just hoping for some fun." His smirk he'd been wearing fell as soon as he saw her disapproving gaze and he sat forward to put his elbows on her desk. "Home's great. You know, disapproving gazes and the unspoken question of what in the hell I got up to for the three months I was gone with a mania crazed mother. I love it, want to spend all my time there.

"Have you talked with Clayton about what happened, Ian?" Belle asked gently.

"Fuck no!" he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and let his hand fall in his lap. There was no way in hell he'd ever let what happened in those few short months outside of this office. It wasn't happening. "What's the point in telling him, he'll just kick me out."

Another sigh from across the desk before, "You don't know that, Ian."  
"Yes, I do." He spoke with a finality that he hoped would make the subject disappear for the time being and was relieved when it did.

"And classes? How's school?"  
This was something he could talk about. "Good, taking those summer classes really helped. I'm almost done." He picked idly at the hem of his shirt, not meeting Belle's eyes.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it." She watched him carefully before sighing once again and saying, "I think that just about wraps up our time. Call me if you're still struggling with the insomnia, all right?"

He nodded before standing and grabbing his coat off the back of the chair. She came around her desk and laid a reassuring hand on his forearm. "Things are going to get better, Ian, just give it some time. Now go home, I don't care to who, tonight's not a night to be alone, alright?" She wrapped him in a hug before showing him out and closing the door behind him.

Ian knew that she was right, but it didn't stop him from wandering around randomly, not entirely sure where to go. He wasn't in the mood to go to Clayton's, who more than likely had a slew of uninteresting house guests who would give him cold looks as they stared down their noses at him. On the other hand, the thought of going to his siblings in the South Side appealed to him only a little more. Aside from the awkward family dinners with them, he would also have to put up with Frank's cutting, drunken remarks and he didn't think he'd be able to deal with that on this night in particular.

He'd made his way to the El and was going in the direction of the South Side, though what he was going to do when he got there was beyond him. He sat curled in a corner of the nearly empty car and burrowed deeper into the warmth of his coat. He could never decide if he liked the solitude or not. It gave him a chance to breathe, not feel like his life was suffocating him, but thinking also led to everything that happened with Monica and that just made him want to crawl out of his skin.

He hurried off at his stop and glanced around the dark street. His feet carried him involuntarily, and he followed them willingly. He ended up pushing through the doors of the café and watched as Caitlin's face lit up in a bright smile.

"Well you're the last person I expected to see here!" she exclaimed, ushering him to a seat. "You here to eat?"

He grinned up at her and nodded his head. "I'll just take an order of fries."

She ruffled his hair before disappearing in the back and telling Denny his order. He glanced around the mostly empty restaurant and saw Barb at a table juggling a tray on each arm.  
He jumped out of his seat and took one gently with a smile. "Need a hand?" he asked, laughing.

She smiled gratefully before teasing, "Haven't you already done your time?"

"Never hurts to lend a hand," he said, crossing the floor and pushing into the kitchen. He glanced around noticing most of the staff had already gone home for the night, which wasn't a surprise with it being nearly nine forty-five and the café closing at ten.

Denny wasn't at his usual post in front of the stove, instead he saw Mickey pushing things around and muttering to himself. He turned around then and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Gallagher? Thought you went home."

"I came back," Ian replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Kept your waitress from dumping two trays worth of dishes on the ground."

"He lies like a Persian rug," Barb said, coming in behind him and swatting his arm. "I would have made it to the kitchen before anything too horrible ensued."

"Oh, big word," Ian teased. He passed the tray off to one of the bus boys he didn't recognize and turned to Caitlin. "Now where's my fries, it's taken too long. I just might not tip you!"

"Won't tip me, my ass!" she cried. "You wouldn't let me and little Emmaleigh starve now would you?"

Ian laughed and shook his head. "Guess I wouldn't."

"Gallagher," Mickey said from across the kitchen, "would you get the fuck outta here? You're not getting paid for this shit."

"All right," Ian conceded, stepping out and taking his seat at his table. His eyes traveled to the door as it opened and watched as Fiona stepped through with a man trailing behind her.

When she caught sight of him her face lit up and she crossed the floor to stand in font of him. "Ian! I thought you would be home by now! Didn't you have an appointment with Dr. Zerh?"

"Yeah, I got hungry though."

"Mind if we join you?" Fiona asked.

"Sure," Ian said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"This is Jimmy, Jimmy my little brother Ian."

The two shook hands just as Caitlin appeared holding his basket of fries. "Mickey's bitching in the back because Denny went home early, apparently he doesn't like chef duties." It was then she seemed to notice the two seated in front of him and she smiled. "Please don't tell me I missed them my first time around, I'm dead in my feet so it wouldn't surprise me."

"No, this is my sister Fiona. She just got here with her," he hesitated before questioning, "boyfriend?"

There was a nod of approval and Caitlin asked, "What can I get you fine folks then?"

They glanced over the menus before they gave their orders and Caitlin disappeared to the kitchen once again. "So, how did your appointment go?" Fiona asked, snatching a fry from his basket with a grin.

"Good, just the usual stuff," he answered vaguely, batting away her hand as it reached for more.  
"Thought you would have gone home by now, what are you doing here?"

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Got hungry."

He knew he was being ridiculously vague, but if he was being honest he didn't know why he'd ended up there. There was a sort calm he found here and he pinned it on the homeyness that just seemed to roll off Barb and the motherly instincts Caitlin had. It helped that Gina, another one of the waitresses, made it easy to talk to her, acting more like a grandma then anything and Denny was always full of stupid jokes that you couldn't help but laugh at. That was the only reason he could think of that he was so easily drawn to the café, why his feet brought him here without a second thought. "What brings you guys out?"

*

Mickey sighed in relief when the clock hit ten and he could officially close up shop. He'd ushered the rest of the staff out the back, saying he'd take care of the few things left before heading home himself. He stepped out from the kitchen and his eyes caught on the patch of red hair hunched over the table. "Gallagher, we're closed."

Green eyes looked up towards his and a slow smile spread across his face. "And you haven't run a mop through here. Need a hand closing up?"

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the hopeful look spread across his face before biting out, without any real heat,

"You ain't getting paid for that shit."

"That's okay, it'll be good to keep my hands busy."

"I could think of a few other things to keep 'em busy," Mickey said, smirking at the blush that crawled up Ian's neck and spread to his ears. "You know where the mop is."

He took the opportunity to slip out the front and pull a cigarette out from the pack he had stashed in his back pocket. He took a long drag after lighting it and glanced in through windows to see Ian already pushing the mop around the floor, his face screwed up in a look of serious concentration. The sight made a smile wrap around the nicotine stick in his mouth, even if it was an unwilling one.  
With each drag on the cigarette, he felt the stress of the day roll away in every fading cloud of smoke. Mandy had been working today which hadn't ended well for anyone really. He didn't know if it was her dismal disposition or the impending threat of a baton that successfully scared away the wandering hands, but it didn't change the fact he'd had to throw out more then one man out for "douchebagary", as Mandy had put it so delicately.

Stubbing out the remainder of the cigarette, he pushed the door back open and walked over to where Ian stood and leaned against a table. "There a reason why you're avoiding leaving?" he asked bluntly.

"Who's says I'm avoiding it?" The young man in front of him didn't even glance up as he spoke, just scrubbed harder at a particularly stubborn spot.

"You came in here to sit in a corner like you're the kid no one wants to sit with at lunch. This ain't fucking highschool man, so either you like brooding by yourself or you're avoiding leaving." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and cocked his head, waiting for a response.

"Okay, maybe I am," Ian conceded, glancing over at him from the corner of his eye.

Nodding, Mickey pushed off and said, "Good, I could use a hand." He walked towards the kitchen and smirked when he heard feet shuffling behind him. "I was gonna try a new recipe Mandy's been badgering me about, you might as well help since your lazy ass is already here."

The truth was, all he really wanted was a hot shower and to face plant into his bed, but he understood the need to hide away and avoid things. He pulled out the recipe Mandy had none-too-discreetly shoved in his back pocket before she went home today and placed it in the counter next to the stove. "You cook any?"

Ian shrugged his shoulders and said, "Some. Don't really get much of a chance at home."

"That's right," he said, looking him over in one slow motion. "Forgot you lived over on the North Side, so why you spend so much time over on the South, tough guy?"

"I've got family over here."

Mickey pulled a lot out and placed it on top of the stove before turning to him and asking, "You're not related to Frank Gallagher, are you?"

"Mm. He's my uncle, which makes his kids both my half siblings and my cousins."

Pulling out a cutting board and an onion, he shot him a confused look before pointing to the utensils he'd pulled out. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"My mom had an affair with my dad while she was with Frank, Frank and my dad are brothers, and therefore that makes them both siblings and cousins." Ian gave him a lazy smile as he picked up a knife and began chopping.  
"So how'd you find out you weren't Frank's?"

Ian launched into a long winded explanation about how his mother had come and wanted to take his little brother, getting a paternity test to prove he wasn't Frank's then when him and his older brother found out, Lip (he still remembered the asshole from high school) had convinced him to get one too.

"As it turns out, out of the three of us boys, I was the only one to escape Frank's parental genes. Clayton came and had me move in with him not long after, Lip said it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I still wish I could of stayed in the South Side."

Mickey looked up from where he'd been throwing things in the boiling pot before saying, "What, deadbeats and drunks appeal to you that much?"

"More then rich bastards staring down their nose at me."

"You almost done over there?" Mickey asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Ian said, seeming distracted.

He couldn't help sliding up beside him and grabbing the knife from his hand. "You're chopping them all wrong," he stated.

"Oh, because there's a special way you need to chop onions for a chili?" Ian asked, wiping his hands off on his jeans.

"Obviously," Mickey said off-handedly.

He shifted and turned his head only now noticing how close they'd gotten, with Mickey leaning on his side against the counter his chest only inches away from brushing against Ian's arm. Ian turned just then and looked down at him, seeming to notice it too.

They stood there, staring, before Mickey cleared his throat and pushed away, grabbing the cutting board and throwing the remaining ingredients in the pot. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes to see a flush spreading across Ian's face and neck and disappearing into his long sleeves. He couldn't help his mind from wandering and wondered just how far that blush spread.

*

"This shouldn't take much longer," Mickey said, breaking the tense silence.

Ian leaned back against the counter as his shirt became uncomfortably hot on his skin and he found it hard to even look over in Mickey's direction.

He was being fucking ridiculous, he knew, but it didn't change the fact that Mickey having been in such close proximity had made his senses go crazy and his mind take a vacation. It was hard to miss Mickey's flirting over the past few days and tonight hadn't been an exception. He shuffled his feet before looking up tentatively.  
Mickey was smirking from his spot by the stove and he tracked with his eyes as his tongue poked out and swept across his bottom lip. "You gonna stay for some food, or you finally decide to go home?"

The question caught Ian off guard and he snapped his eyes from where they'd been devouring the sight and said, "Not really ready to leave yet."

Mickey crossed the kitchen and threw the cutting board into the sink before turning towards him and saying, "Well then, you wanna wash it dry?"

"Wash," he blurted, and followed till he was standing in front of the sink with only a few dishes.  
He turned the water on and looked out of the corner of his eye to where Mickey grabbed a towel and threw it over his shoulder. The shorter man bent over to pick up a knife that had fallen off the counter, giving Ian an eyeful of his ass that he couldn't look away from.

"Enjoying the view Gallagher?" he heard, and snapped his head back to where the sink was filling.

"I was just-"

"Staring at my ass?" Mickey said, coming to stand beside him. "I'm flattered honesty, I have a great ass."

"Yeah you do," the words slipped past Ian's lips before he had a chance to think them through and the heat ran up his spine and spread throughout his whole body.

Mickey laughed beside him and said, "You let that water run any longer it's going to overflow."

He turned it off, the knobs squeaking while he did and plunged his hands into the hot water. The silence stretched as they cleaned, not necessarily uncomfortable, but tension spread throughout his body. As the last few dishes were washed he handed them over to Mickey and watched as he placed them in their various cabinets before he made his way back over to the sink.

Neither saw the water that had collected on the floor until Mickey's foot slid across the small patch and nearly fell to the ground. Ian was quick though, and slid an arm around his waist pulling him up and to his chest involuntarily.  
"Thanks man, these floors are a fucking pain in the ass when they get wet."

Ian nodded and only loosened his grip slightly, loving the weight in his arms that came from holding Mickey. He looked down just as Mickey looked up and their eyes locked. He swallowed hard and inched his face closer, Mickey's breath hot against his face as he lowered it.

He was inches only inches from the other mans mouth when a hard shove sent him stumbling backwards. His eyes widened and he look at Mickey, expecting an explanation of why he'd been shoved.

There was heavy breathing coming from Mickey before he said through gritted teeth, "Kiss me and I'll cut your fucking tongue out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm picking this up at the beginning of the next chapter with Mickey's POV so you can understand why he kinda went cold at the end.


End file.
